The opinions expressed in this article are the writer’s own and do not reflect the views of Her Campus.
This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at UC Berkeley chapter.
Lichen grows up my legsÂ
Green as my eyesÂ
Reflecting on your lilac palms,Â
Ripe with the bluebellsÂ
You picked just now.Â
My heart swellsÂ
Like English ivy onto my chestÂ
As the wind blows Orphic melodiesÂ
Through growths of nettleÂ
You were cut from the same stone as citrine, I decide.